paint me serendipity
by lydiamaartin
Summary: A chance meeting, a childhood fairytale, and mint chocolate ice cream lead Lucy Weasley's life to change in ways she never thought possible. - LucyLorcan


**Disclaimer: Don't own whatever is recognizable.**

**For Bri (swirling-summernotes) and Listen's (fabricated fantasies) Once Upon A Time challenge, with the fairytale ****Aladdin****, the pairing ****LucyLorcan****, and the prompts ****mess**** and ****ring****.**

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><p>Rebellion isn't really her thing.<p>

She's _Lucy_, not Lily (running away to Ireland, dying her hair rainbow colors, listening to "age-inappropriate" Muggle bands) or Rose (creating a social network that spans the country, moving to Italy, becoming a _glassblower_, of all things), and she doesn't rebel. She's the sweet, easygoing Weasley with an eye on a Ministry job and working to keep everyone happy and upbeat.

But she's _tired_ of being _boring_.

She wishes she was more like Victoire, regaling her cousins and children with stories of worlds far away beneath star-studded skies, ruled by Lions and Kings and Queens, or like Dominique who can weave a million stars into a glittering constellation all for the sake of love, or even like Molly with her blooming gardens on the rooftop of her house in Greece.

All her cousins lead lives full of excitement, and Lucy is tired of being holed up in her house, working all day, not allowed to leave because she's only sixteen and her father can technically force her to stay at home and study for her NEWTs next year.

To fix her predicament, though, she needs a _plan_.

"James," she hisses, grabbing his arm and jerking him away from his face-eating session with his girlfriend and into a corner where nobody can hear them over the general noise that pervades the Burrow during a Weasley family get-together. "I need your help."

He scowls at her. "I was _busy_, Lucy," he huffs, crossing his arms and looking close to throwing a tantrum, conveniently forgetting that Lucy's known him his whole life and can handle him at his most annoying. "What do you want?"

Lucy crosses her arms, looking around to make sure there are no eavesdroppers. "I want to sneak out."

James raises an eyebrow. "You…what?" he asks in disbelief.

"I want to sneak out," Lucy repeats, more slowly and adding emphasis, her eyes narrowing because she needs him to _hurry up_ and get her point. "From my house. Sometime soon. All that studying is driving me crazy. I need an adventure. I need _adrenaline_."

James runs a hand through his hair, looking half-thoughtful and half-amused. "Wait, let me get this straight," he begins, chuckling, and Lucy grits her teeth, knowing what's coming, "_you_ want to sneak out? You, little Lucy, daddy's perfect little princess?"

"Shut up," she growls, startling him into silence. "I need a plan. That's why I came to you, nimrod. I mean, you always get caught, but at least you know how to sneak out."

His jaw drops. "I do _not_ always get caught!" he cries, scandalized, then lowers his voice when Lucy frantically gestures at him to keep it down, "Where did you hear that _vile_ rumor, cousin dearest?"

"From my own ears," Lucy remarks wryly. "Aunt Ginny's not a quiet person. Now, will you help me or not?"

"What's in it for me?" James asks immediately, looking her dead in the eye.

Lucy draws a rectangular box out of her pocket. "I happen to have a necklace that would perfectly complement Ellie's eyes," she tells him, smirking. "And you forgot her birthday again, didn't you?"

James blushes, taking the box she offers him and opening it to examine the sparkling jade necklace that _would_ complement his girlfriend's eyes. "Fine. Here's what you do…"

-:-

Two days later, on a sunny Saturday that summer, Lucy finds herself standing outside the gates of her house, a cloak wrapped around her slender frame and a smile on her face as she contemplates the freedom in front of her.

"Thank you, James," she whispers to the night air, and then she Apparates to the first place she can think of – Ambrosia Plaza, the magical marketplace in Greece where her sister works at a florist's shop, hoping to see Molly's familiar face.

It's crowded that day, because a summer's day in Greece, particularly Wizarding Greece, means everybody is out and about doing errands and meeting with friends and generally have a good time to celebrate the summer solstice recently past. Lucy draws the hood of her cloak down and inhales the smell of warm bread and spicy sauces and fragrant flowers that perpetually infuses the marketplace. Whenever she visited Greece, her mother and sister would always take her to the Plaza because she loved walking around and taking in the sights.

"A pretty ring for a pretty girl, what do you say, Miss?" asks a teenage boy cheerfully, interrupting her musings and holding out a glass box with a diamond ring sparkling inside to show her. He's cute, and his smile is dimpled, so she stops and examines it.

"Maybe later," she suggests kindly, offering him a smile. "I'm just looking for now."

The boy shrugs and returns the box to his jewelry booth. "You know where to come if you want anything that sparkles," he tells her, waving as she laughs and turns to walk into the masses congregating in the center of the plaza.

Everywhere she looks, she sees activity; people bustling around, shop-owners hawking their _incredibly low_ prices for food and clothes and random knick-knacks, booths lining the cobbled streets with a gleamming array of jewelry and shoes and snow globes and who knows what else. There's laughter and there's chatter and there's _freedom_.

Lucy stops right in the center of the plaza, surrounded on all sides with the harmony of a thousand voices mingling together with clinking bells and giggles and shouts, and takes a deep breath.

And runs into an _extremely_ cute, _extremely_ familiar boy.

Before he can scramble up off the floor, she's got her hood pulled over her blond curls, not wanting him to recognize her and possibly turn her over to her father. When he stands, his (remarkably dizzying) silver-blue eyes are looking at her half-hidden face with curiosity.

"Sorry about that," Lorcan Scamander says nonchalantly. "Do I know you? You seem familiar?"

Lucy gulps. "Nope, not at all – I'm new here," she answers quickly, far too quickly, and curses herself mentally for not practicing a different accent to use than her dead-giveaway English one.

Lorcan raises an eyebrow. "Really? What's your name?" he asks cheerfully, and she knows he's just trying to be nice – or maybe he's suspicious of her excuse – but she wishes he would just leave her be.

"Um, Jasmine," she says hastily, spying a white jasmine blooming on the walls of a booth nearby; it's the first thing that pops into her mind. "Yours?"

"Lorcan, but you can call me Aladdin, Princess," he grins, winking at her, and her traitorous heart starts drumming out a beat that's far too fast to be healthy when she looks at him. "Want me to show you the world?" he teases.

"Shut up," she grumbles, though there's a smile flickering across her face. "Can you be more heavy-handed with the Aladdin comparisons?"

"I could if you wanted me to," he answers easily, offering her his arm. "Come on. If you're new here, _Jasmine_, I can show you all the best places to shop."

Lucy would have protested, but before she can think twice, her hand's in his arm and he's pulling her along, weaving through the crowd and telling her stories about his vacation in Greece with his twin brother and his parents, and she wonders if he recognizes her, if he's going to make a mess of her plan to rebel, but then he turns and smiles at her.

And maybe it doesn't matter.

-:-

Her hood falls down when they're sitting in an ice cream parlor, discussing the merits of banana ice cream (Lorcan) versus mint chocolate (her). A strong breeze whistles through the outdoors café, blowing away spoons and forks and papers, and her hood drops off her head.

Lorcan sits back, grinning. "I thought I recognized you."

Lucy sighs, finger-combing through her ruffled blond curls. "I'm sorry I lied, I just – I was sneaking out and I didn't want anybody to recognize me and tell Daddy and…" She trails off in confusion when she realizes he's laughing.

"_Jasmine_, honestly," Lorcan says teasingly, reaching over and pressing his hand over hers, his fingers warm and light on the back of her hand, "I'm not Lysander, you know. I can have fun. I wouldn't have told your father. I'd have done exactly what I did – charmed you into spending the whole day with me."

"You did not _charm_ me," Lucy sniffs, but she's smiling as she digs her spoon into her mint chocolate ice cream and takes a bite. "You just dragged me around without any regard for my opinion or feelings –"

"Did you enjoy it?" Lorcan interrupts, his grin widening when she blushes and looks away. "That's what I thought."

Lucy rolls her eyes. "Listen, _Aladdin_, your happy-go-lucky flirting might work on other girls, but I've known you since the days when you wet your bed, okay?" she laughs, turning her hand palm up and squeezing his, and he smiles.

"You haven't changed a bit since last year," he chuckles. "You're still full of dry wit and boundless passion, aren't you, Princess?"

"Don't call me that," she mutters, chewing on her lip. "How can you say I'm full of passion? I'm destined for a stuffy desk job in the Ministry under my father – "

"No, you're not," Lorcan interrupts instantly, taking her spoon with his free hand a feeding her a bite of mint chocolate ice cream. "How can _you_ say that? You're Lucy and you're a Weasley, and you're a hell of a lot more than just a stuffy desk job. You could be anything you wanted to be."

"But I can't," she insists, and she feels kind of pathetic, like she's asking for attention by spilling her problems out to him, but she doesn't want to deal with them on her own and he's _smiling_ at her, so she continues. "Everybody expects me to – "

He cuts her off again, and she wonders wryly if this isn't getting to be habitual for him. "Who cares what everybody expects you to be? Haven't you learned anything from your cousins? Albus is a Slytherin, Rose is a glassblower, Molly's probably going to garden for the Queen one day if she has anything to say about – why can't you decide your own future?"

"I'm all my father has," Lucy whispers, staring into the mint chocolate depths of her ice cream. "Ever since the divorce, he's pinned all his hopes and dreams on me, because Mum took Molly and I'm all he has now and – " This time, she interrupts herself, sighing. "I want to make him proud, but I also want to be happy."

Lorcan sits back, eyeing her thoughtfully. "I'm sure he'll understand," he offers finally. "What makes you happy?"

Lucy has to think for a minute. "Painting," she answers, pulling her hand free from his and dropping it onto her lap. "I'm not great or anything, but I illustrate Victoire's short stories sometimes, and I have a bunch of sketchbooks lying in a drawer at home."

Lorcan reaches over, tucking a loose blond curl behind her ear. "Can I see?" he asks softly.

His words linger in the sweet sunshine, and Lucy begins to smile.

-:-

The next day, after she's successfully snuck back into her house with plans of rubbing her escapade in James's face, he Floos over to look at her paintings, and she shows him her cluttered sketchbook drawer and the colors that bloom magnetically across the pages, having formed shapes and sizes and dreams long ago.

"They're beautiful," Lorcan tells her sincerely, running his hand over the dried, smooth blue paint of a river. "Do you want to do this professionally, Lucy? Because you have the talent, for sure."

She sighs. "It's mostly just a hobby. I've been doing nothing but studying lately…" Her voice drifts into the wind, the sentence forgotten, as he looks at her with those dizzying silver-blue eyes, and she thinks she'd rather like to paint them.

"You have time to figure it out, don't you?" Lorcan smiles, handing the sketchbook back to her. "You're only sixteen. You don't have to decide your future right now."

"No," Lucy shrugs, "I suppose not – " She stops speaking, this time more suddenly, because her father's voice is resounding in the house.

"Lucy! Come down here! There's somebody I want you to meet!"

Lorcan blinks in surprise as Lucy huffs and exits the room, stalking down the steps to meet whichever one of her father's boring old coworkers he wanted her to meet today in order to "form connections", leaving Lorcan to watch curiously from the top of the stairs.

She turns right towards the living room and comes face to face with a boy who _must_ have been part Greek god.

"Hello, Miss Weasley," he drawls, and Lucy blinks, her attraction shattered the instant he reaches for her hand to kiss it. "My name is Austin Yellowleaf the third and I am – "

Lucy shoves him away from her. "The boy who pulled my pigtails all through my first year, yes, I remember you," she snaps, and he looks startled that she does, in fact, remember him from when he was annoying brat of a thirteen-year-old. "What are you doing here?"

"Be polite, darling," her father admonishes, entering behind Austin with a cup of tea in his hands as he shoots his daughter a warning look. "Austin is here to ask you something very important, and it would be in your best interest to listen."

"Speak, then," Lucy orders, in no mood for being polite – she'd been having _fun_ with Lorcan, who was actually sweet and polite and funny, and her father had yanked her away to talk to this jerk?

"_Be polite_," Percy hisses at her. Lucy has to resist the urge to stick out her tongue, but she has to wonder if maybe making a deal with James hadn't led to some of his own instinctive defiance of authority to rub off on her.

Austin clears his throat and continues as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "Lucy, I would be honored if you would accompany me to the Ministry Ball in two weeks to celebrate the Minister's birthday," he says, very primly and properly.

Lucy tilts her head, considering Austin with his broad shoulders and dark eyes and waves of soft blond hair and the physique of a Greek god (she could still find him physically attractive, even if he was a jerk, right?), and she thinks about Lorcan with his easy grin and warm hugs and cheery laughter, and she thinks about her paintings and she thinks about the Ministry.

She thinks about love, for the space of a heartbeat.

And then she says, "No."

-:-

Her father does _not_ approve of Lorcan Scamander, not as a potential boyfriend, barely as a friend, and not even as a constant visitor in his house. He puts up with him for Lucy's sake, but she knows he still finds the Scamanders in general too bizarre for his daughter to ever see as more than a casual friend.

Too bad she's gone and fallen in love with Lorcan, isn't it?

Percy sighs one morning over his cup of tea as Lucy readies herself to go study at the Scamanders' (well, that's what he thinks, but Lorcan's promised to show her how to play paintball). "Sweetheart, are you sure about this? I could still call up the Yellowleafs if you want to go – "

"I don't _want_ to go, Daddy," Lucy insists, smoothing down her green sundress. "I know how your social circle works. If I had agreed to go with Austin, I'd have to start a relationship with him, and as soon as I finished school, he would propose and we would get married and live happily ever after in our giant, empty manor house with two children, a boy as an heir and a girl as a spare. The pureblood dream," she finishes bitterly, grabbing her purse.

Her father rubs his temple. "You know I'm not like those other purebloods, Lucy," he says, his blue eyes, the same sky-bright shade as hers, meeting her gaze, and for a moment, he looks a little broken, like he had ever since the divorce. "I don't want you to be a Malfoy bride or anything – sorry, I know Scorpius is a friend of yours, but things were different in my day. You know what I mean."

She does know what he means. Her father would never force her into an arranged marriage; he wants her to be happy. But his definition of happy is different from hers. She doesn't need a wealthy husband to take care of her or two perfect pureblood children to pamper or a desk job at the Ministry to be happy.

It's only been a few weeks since she met him, but she knows now that she needs her paintings and her friends and her _dreams_ to be truly happy.

"Daddy," Lucy says softly, stepping towards him. "I can hande my future, all right? I don't need you to make connections or call in favors for me. I'll make my own mistakes and my own life in this world. I'll have to carve my own footsteps, not just follow in yours."

Percy looks down at her, and she thinks that maybe he doesn't see her as the heartbroken seven-year-old who cried when her mother and sister left anymore. Maybe now he can see the almost-seventeen young woman she is, the full-fledged witch she's becoming, the happy adult she's growing into on her own terms.

He embraces her, and it's sudden and it's stiff, but he's her _father_ and he loves her, so she hugs him back. "Have fun," he murmurs when he pulls back.

Lucy smiles. "I will."

-:-

He kisses her for the first time on a rainy August day – though not out in the pouring rain, as romantic and cliché as that would have been.

They're huddled in his family's greenhouse, surrounded by exotic plants blooming in bright rainbow colors and filling the rusty air with their sweet fragrances, debating whether or not they should risk a cold to run back to the warmth and safety of his house or not.

"I can't afford to get sick the week before school starts!" she insists, picking up a pink sunflower and inhaling its cheerful scent. "I don't care how much healing your mother knows, Lorc!"

"It's really not that far a walk," he argues, grinning as he brushes his fingers over her hand when she moves to put the sunflower back. "I'll stay by your bedside if you get sick, how's that, Princess?"

While it's a rather appealing idea, she has to admit, she stands her ground. "The rain already looks like it's slowing down, and it's barely sunset. We can afford to wait a little while."

Lorcan sighs. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you," he laughs, plucking a purple jasmine glowing amongst yellow roses and glittering bluebells and using his free hand to tuck it neatly into her blond curls. "It'll be fun, Jasmine," he teases. "_Live_ a little, would you?"

And then he kisses her as the rain beats a steady rhythm on the walls of the greenhouse to the pace of her heartbeat, and she draws him closer, practically overwhelmed with warmth and happiness and love.

It's a little like a fairytale, she thinks dizzily when he pulls back with a grin. Only it's them, and they're not quite that cliché, no matter how much he likes to compare them to Aladdin.

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><p><strong>Author's Notes: Well, this is what happens when I get sick of dreamer!Lucy, but also of rebel!Next-Gen girls ;) Here's a girl who's a little bit of both, and hopefully she works for the fic, which I sincerely hope you all liked! :) If you read, please do leave me a review to tell me what you thought! It'd make my day! :D<strong>

**Don't favorite without reviewing, thank you.  
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